


A Fool's Game

by prosodiical



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: Souji didn't have a soulmark before he came to Inaba.





	A Fool's Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [higuchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/higuchi/gifts).



> Soulmate AUs are my favourite trope, and it was really fun getting to write one for these two! I hope you like this!
> 
> This takes some cues from the Jester S-link in P4 Golden, but is set in vanilla P4. Thanks to C for the beta!

Souji's wrist has been itching all day.

It has been all week, really, but it's gotten steadily worse. He's almost glad for the cloth band he wears, the way his short nails can't find purchase against his skin, and he just presses his fingers to it, distracted from Morooka's ranting about something-or-other. Yosuke leans over his desk, expression curious, and whispers, "Something wrong?"

"No," Souji says, but Pixie stirs in his head and he pulls on a smile, a little self-deprecating. "My mark. You know."

"Oh," Yosuke says, drawn out, and gives Souji a conspiratorial grin. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I can feel it when she gets anxious. You, too?"

Souji says, "Maybe."

"That's just a superstition," Chie says. "You can't really tell, you know. Are you sure it's not just a rash?"

Souji's saved from their impending argument by Morooka's loud reprimand: "Anything you stupid brats want to say? No?!"

"No," Yosuke says quickly, falling back into his seat, and Souji gives him a sympathetic look before he turns back to his own work. His wrist still itches, and hasn't stopped through school or basketball practice or their forays into the TV, even now when Yukiko's safe at home. Maybe he'd believe Yosuke's theory or Chie's well-meaning disassemblement if he thought it were something so simple, but...

Souji's wrist has been blank since he was born, not an inkling of a soulmark to be found. But every evening he takes his band off at night and there's a slowly-darkening rectangle of color, and he doesn't have any idea why.

It shouldn't really matter. Soulmarks aren't shared except in the case of close family or friends, or when a couple thinks theirs might match; Souji's blank wrist is a secret shared by him and his parents alone. And though Souji hadn't expected the Midnight Channel to show him anyone, now it seems unrelated to soulmates altogether.

He's spent a few fruitless hours searching for any case like his and coming up with nothing, and every day as the image gets darker, it looks more and more like the tarot cards his Personas are stored on, that new glimmer in the corner of his eye. It's worrying to think it's related, even more to think it might not be, and he's no closer to figuring it out when he bumps into Adachi coming out of Junes.

"Whoa," Adachi says, with a steadying hand on Souji's elbow, "watch where you're going with all that. What, are you having a party?"

Souji looks over his two bags of groceries. "I am cooking for two. Three."

Adachi laughs. "Dojima-san's that bad, huh? So you're the cook in the house? I've got to say, that's impressive - when I was in high school I didn't do any of that. Not that I do it now, either. By the time I get home Dojima-san's run me so ragged I can't be bothered, you know?"

"He's a hardass," Souji says, because it seems it's what Adachi wants to hear; Adachi gets an odd glint in his eye before he ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, chuckling.

"That's Dojima-san for you," he says. "But I should get back to work."

Souji looks at the groceries, then back at Adachi, who's still watching him. "You could come over," he says, "for dinner."

"You're cooking?" Adachi says. "Won't it be weird, having me over without Dojima-san there?"

"I'm a good cook," Souji says. "And Nanako will be there."

Adachi pulls a considering face. "I suppose the new suspect is keeping all of Dojima-san's attention right now, so he won't notice if I slack off. All right, but you better be good."

"I am," Souji says. He catches Adachi scratching absentmindedly at the band around his wrist as he leaves.

Adachi shows up that night, a few hours later, taking off his shoes at the door. Souji's in the kitchen juggling pans when Nanako says, "Big bro!"

"Coming," Souji says, but in his haste gets a splash of hot water on his hand; he shakes it out in pain and runs the water tap, wishing futilely for some of the fox's magical leaves as he holds it under the numbing cold water. Adachi raises his eyebrows at him from where he's ambled over to the kitchen, and Souji gives him a wary look as he peers over Souji's work.

"Well, it's not quite what I expected," Adachi says, and tilts his head at Souji's wristband as he pulls his hand briefly away from the water to gauge the pain. "You can take that off, if you want. I can look away."

Souji wonders if he would. He looks at Adachi's own wrist, his fingers under the loosened edge, and Adachi notices and lets his sleeve fall. "What, mine? I guess if I do catch a glimpse we could do a tit-for-tat, but I'm afraid it'd be uneven. I'm a blank."

Souji says, "So am I."

"Oh, really?" Adachi's expression slides from interested to innocent in a moment. "It's not so bad for us guys. None of those annoying expectations. Hey, did you know both the murder victims were blanks, too? We're thinking it might be a pattern. Though I probably shouldn't be talking about it. There's not much else here in the sticks, I guess. How're you finding it here?"

"The murders have kept things interesting," Souji says, and is rewarded with Adachi's quick grin. "Would you mind..."

"Sure," Adachi says, and pointedly turns away when Souji peels off his wristband, now thoroughly soaked. The symbol there still makes him do a double-take every time he sees it, darkened into a dark blue border and a faint picture Souji knows will clear into the Fool, and he wrings out the cloth of his band and keeps his hand under the running water for as long as he dares. He doesn't know if Adachi sees it by the time the burning sensation's subsided, but when Souji ties the band back around his wrist Adachi's flipping through Dojima's paperwork on the table, and reels back a little guiltily when Souji brings out their bowls.

"Don't tell Dojima-san," Adachi says. "He never lets me look at the good stuff."

"It's okay," Souji says, and meets Adachi's briefly considering gaze. "I won't."

Nanako says, "You won't be fighting again, will you, big bro?" and Souji shakes his head, pulling on a smile for her as he drops to the table and sets her bowl and chopsticks for her.

"No fighting," he says, "I promise."

Adachi says, "Do you get in trouble a lot?"

"Well," Souji says, and Adachi widens his eyes and grins mischievously.

"You don't have to tell me, I know how Dojima-san can be," he says, and after a mouthful of food, looks surprised. "Huh, this isn't bad at all."

"Big bro's the best cook ever," Nanako says with all seriousness, and Adachi's mouth quirks.

"He could have been lying."

"He wouldn't!"

"Really," Adachi says, and his gaze lingers on Souji's covered wrist on the edge of the table. Souji steadily meets his eyes until Adachi drops his stare, smile turning sheepish. "Well, in that case, I suppose he must be."

"Good," Nanako says, and Souji feels warmed from the inside by her beaming smile.

Adachi hangs around drinking Dojima's beer for long enough that Nanako's gone to bed, and Souji does the dishes as Adachi leans on the kitchen table. "You're quite the little housewife," Adachi says, and Souji glances over at him. Adachi's hand is on his wristband again. "What, you do the laundry too?"

"Nanako was handling most of it before I came," Souji says. "But I don't cook every day."

Adachi makes a thoughtful noise. "And the lying's a thing for you, too?" He nods towards Souji's hands. "what was the point of telling me you were a blank? Trying to suck up to me? I can't tell you everything about our investigation, you know. Or was it dirt on Dojima-san you wanted?"

"You looked," Souji says. He isn't sure if he's surprised, or if the curl of Adachi's smile is oddly curious or worse.

"Just a glimpse," Adachi says. "Or... did you want me to see it? I can't imagine why."

It's nothing Souji can put to words, how familiar Adachi feels to him. His easy-going smiles and sheepish laughs don't always meet his eyes, but there's nothing wrong with that except that sometimes Adachi looks - blank, like Souji occasionally feels, strangely empty inside. Igor had said it best, and now Souji has metaphysical proof of all the masks he dons, the aggression he takes on with Dojima, the caring gentleness with Nanako, and with Adachi -

Even if he had a multiple-choice list of things he could say, Souji thinks, he wouldn't be able to decide on one. "I was a blank," he says, slowly. "This is... new."

"Huh," Adachi says. "How weird. Me, too."

Souji looks at him. Adachi's expression is unreadable. "It is weird," Souji says, and breaks Adachi's scrutinizing stare to turn back to the dishes, drying his hands on the towel; Adachi drains the last of his beer in a gulp and Souji studies his profile, the easy slouch of his shoulders and the mess of his hair.

"'S not the only thing weird about this place," Adachi says, leaving the empty bottle on the counter. "These strange murders? That rumor about seeing your soulmate on the TV?"

"The Midnight Channel," Souji says. "That's what it's called."

"Oh, is that it? I don't even know how it got started. Lucky neither of us'll be on there, right, Seta-kun?" Adachi smiles. "Well, thanks for the food."

Souji says, "You can come again."

"Is that so?" Adachi says. "I might take you up on it, if Dojima-san isn't home."

The door closes after him, and Souji spends a long moment shuffling through his Personas in his head, trying to find one that might fit. Adachi's - strange, certainly, suspicious, possibly, but if both of them have been affected by this, it can't be him who's made this happen. Souji's wrist still itches, and when he looks the Fool is a little darker, more defined.

He wonders if Adachi has one. He wonders if it's the same.

Souji's almost so used to Adachi coming over for dinner that he's surprised when he comes one day with Dojima in tow, Dojima's arm around his shoulders and Adachi looking rather amused under his weight. "He's had a little too much to drink, I think," Adachi says, and Souji looks at his own slightly flushed cheeks as he helps Dojima over to the couch. "Nanako-chan, could you make up his futon?"

Nanako says, "...Yeah." Souji doesn't have any words that'll make the resignation leave her face.

Dojima's loquacious when drunk, and Adachi around him is less careless, more self-effacing. By the time Dojima's put to bed and Nanako, too, Adachi's collapsed on the couch, face-up. "Did you want anything?" Souji says, and Adachi heaves a sigh.

"Nah," he says, "I should... head back home." He swings himself upright, catching himself on the arm of the couch as he threatens to fall over. Souji wonders if he should offer a shoulder, but Adachi pulls himself to his feet, if slowly, cheeks flushed and expression oddly bemused when he looks at Souji, proffering a glass of water.

"Thanks," he says, and drinks it in a gulp, then leans rather heavily against the wall. "What is it about you, anyway?"

"I'm sorry?" Souji says.

Adachi waves the glass around, and Souji quickly extracts it from his grip to set it on the table. "That," Adachi says, "this. You've got a dozen little friends running around, why are you still wasting time with me? Or are you that bored?"

Souji says, "Would that surprise you?"

Adachi lets out a huff of a laugh and says, "Nah, not really. The only thing that's interesting around here are the murders. And..." He studies Souji intently, then suddenly reaches out and grabs his wrist. His grip is surprisingly tight, and Souji feels a rush of adrenaline that feels like fear.

"Adachi-san - "

"Don't give me that," Adachi says, "you know, don't you? I don't know how you know - you can't be the one who did this fucking shit to me - "

His fingers fumble with the tie on Souji's wristband. Souji says, "Your mark - "

"Yeah," Adachi says, as he tugs it off, letting it fall to the floor. Souji's wrist lies bare, and he feels suddenly cold. "That's the one. That god-awful Fool."

Does it mean the same to him? Souji wonders, suddenly, if in another world Adachi would be the Wild Card, Souji just an afternote in his story. He wonders if Adachi can see the blue door in the middle of the Shopping District, if Adachi has a dozen voices clamoring for attention in his head - or just the one. Adachi rubs his thumb over the tarot card imprinted on Souji's wrist, eyes narrowed, and it sends a weird frisson of electricity through Souji's skin. Souji exhales a breath through his teeth and kisses him.

Adachi tastes like sake and beer and second-hand smoke. Souji's mind is strangely silent, Adachi's eyebrows raised when he pulls back. "You know," Adachi says, "this soulmate shit doesn't mean anything. Right?"

"Yeah," Souji says. "I know."

"Well," Adachi says, "in that case," and kisses Souji like he means it. It's no starbursts of light, no birds chirping in the sky, nothing like the soulmate stories say it should be, but pulling him in, at least Souji feels less empty. Less alone.  
  



End file.
